On Miscues, Adversity, Fishing and Life

I have always believed that we are merely a sum of our experiences. We are an aggregate of the people we meet, the places we travel, the food we taste, etc. I profoundly believe that of all of these experiences, adversity and miscues shape us as individuals and paradoxically provide the most richly rewarding experiences in life.

I am reminded of a recent trip to Florida when I ambitiously awoke at 5:30am to head out on a solo fly fishing trip (A true feat for a non-morning person). I didn't know at the time that the sun would not rise until 7:30, but did know that we were under a dense fog advisory. When I reached the boat, visibility was only few hundred yards, but I felt confident that I could still navigate between the islands. Throwing my caution to the wind I headed out, confident I could find my way south to my favorite fishing hole.

After two hours of navigating what should have been a twenty minute trip in the dark and the fog, I slowly came to the realization that I was above my head. I could see no islands, no intercoastal waterway markers, no boats, no sign of safety -- just water and a thick blanket of fog that enveloped me.

Stuck alone on the boat, the claustrophobic panic that often comes with getting lost began to set in. Suddenly and unexpectedly, however, I was overwhelmed by a sense of calm. I stopped the boat, took a deep breath, tied on a clauser minnow (tied by my good friend Erik - thanks buddy), and began the rhythmic and soothing action of fly fishing.

For hours, lost in the fog, I enjoyed catching fish, the quiet solitude, and the sweet, heavy salt air. Succumbing to being lost forced me to live in the moment, and rarely have I experienced such enjoyment.

After a couple of hours, the sun burned off the fog, and revealed that I was within a hundred yards of the safety of the Boca Grande Bridge, the very spot I had intended to end up.

Tonight, I feel as though I am once again lost in the fog, but am again overwhelmed by a sense of calm. The fog is precisely where I am suppose to be, and I will enjoy the present and continue to trust that the safety of a bridge lies just outside of sight. And, I will say with confidence that, like my solo fishing trip gone array, my cancer will provide an unexpectedly rewarding experience that I will carry with me throughout life.

Feeling well and looking forward to killing some more lymphoblasts on Thursday,

Sam